


Winter's End

by wispsofcolour



Category: VIXX
Genre: Death!Taekwoon, Domestic Violence, Gen, Jack Frost!Hakyeon, M/M, Minor Character Death, ONE OF THEM IS 300 YEARS OLD, Other, Rise of the Guardians AU, Substance Abuse, all pairings can be read as platonic if you wish :D, but if you read this as JackFrostxJamie i'll come to your house and fill it with japanese hornets, does it count as major character death if both major characters are dead to begin with?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-02 10:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14542770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wispsofcolour/pseuds/wispsofcolour
Summary: The spirit of the boy who died in a frozen lake meets Death three hundred years later when Death brushes too close to the soul of the one who gave him purpose.





	Winter's End

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: While Hakyeon is Jack Frost, the only artistic licence I’ve taken with the character is his physical appearance and real name. Everything else about him is the same as seen in canon. Everyone still calls him Jack Frost too.
> 
> Set 4 years after the events of the movie.

The first time Hakyeon saw him, Jamie lost his mother.

It had been a long hard winter. It was the first year Jamie had not wanted to go out and play. Sometimes, Jamie would ignore Hakyeon, pretending to not see him — even one of his glowing snowflakes didn’t help.

His mother was dying.

Aunt Rhea refused to let Jamie or Sophie see their mother at all. Hakyeon knew that she meant well — she was the only family any of them had left after all — but perhaps it would have been kinder to allow them more time with their only remaining parent.

It was five in the morning on a Tuesday when it happened.

Jamie had woken up from a nightmare that no amount of dreamsand from Sanderson could chase away. He ran crying to Aunt Rhea, who was sleeping in his mother’s old room, demanding to be taken to the hospital. Hakyeon had no idea how he was supposed to be of use in a situation like this but he tried anyway. A gentle snowflake on Aunt Rhea’s nose seemed to soften her. It took ten minutes to wake Sophie and dress. Ten minutes too long.

Hakyeon reached the hospital ward first, hoping to somehow hold off on what he knew was inevitable. As it was, he was the only one who could see the hooded cloaked figure standing over the weakened body of Mrs Bennett. Long pale fingers grasped her too-thin hand and gave a soft tug. Mrs Bennett’s soul eased out of her body, glowing like a gentle star in the night sky. The hooded figure holding her hand lead her to the window, where the first rays of sunrise were peeking softly through the curtains.

When Hakyeon yelled, the hooded figure turned their head, just enough for a sliver of their face to show, but otherwise showed no sign that they had heard him. Jamie arrived just as the hooded figure flew out the window, hand in hand with his mother’s soul.

* * *

Hakyeon spent the rest of winter that year drawing on every glass surface in Jamie’s darkened room, hoping to draw Jamie out from under his covers.

When spring came, Jamie moved away from Burgess.

* * *

The second time Hakyeon saw him, it was summertime in the north.

Hakyeon hated summertime. He never had a good enough reason to visit Jamie and even if he did, the Summer Spirit would get huffy with him for edging in on her territory. Hakyeon couldn’t really blame Amber — he didn’t particularly enjoy her thawing visits during the winter months either. And in any case, snowfall during summertime was no fun.

So Hakyeon found himself roaming the peaceful fields of New Zealand, listening to the soft bleating of the sheep. He didn’t know what it was that made him decide to enter the small run-down house at the end of the street.

An old man was lying in his bed, his speckled skin dry and wrinkled. His hands were gnarled and his fingernails were dirty and broken. One of them was grasping onto a large pale hand with long fingers. For the first time, Hakyeon saw the face of the hooded figure in full. It was a man, his narrow eyes and dark hair a stark contrast against his pale skin. His hand gave a soft tug.

The old man’s soul did not glow has brightly as Mrs Bennett’s had. There were dark spots scattered throughout the dimly glowing soul. As before, the hooded figure lead him to the window, holding him firmly by his hand.

No one found the old man’s body until a week later.

* * *

The third time Hakyeon saw him, it was when he decided to detour through South Korea on the way to visit Toothiana while Jamie was asleep.

Jamie was doing better. He had even made a few friends in his new school. They were nice, but none of them could see Hakyeon. Every time Jamie tried to tell them about him, they would scoff. Jamie eventually learned to stop mentioning Hakyeon around them, even during snow days when they played in Hakyeon’s presence. But when the children had all left, Jamie would smile at Hakyeon and they would have their own snowball fight in his backyard. It would end with them lying breathless, head to head in the snow, and Jamie would tell Hakyeon that he was was his best friend.

Hakyeon usually stayed away from hospitals. Aside from not wanting to think about Mrs Bennett, few children could withstand his cold presence there. He made his way cautiously through the children’s ward, trying to keep his aura as contained as possible. A little boy, no older than Sophie, had ten different tubes coming out of his body and was hooked up to big machines that were humming softly. His small hand could barely close around the single finger extended to him.

Hakyeon decided that simply shouting was not going to cut it this time.

A blue flurry of frost energy hit the hooded figure square the chest just as the little boy’s soul began to slide out of his body. The hooded figure stumbled back from the little boy, throwing his hands up as he did.

Hakyeon began to smile, thinking that he had saved the boy. He was wrong.

The soul, still attached to the finger of the hooded figure, was violently jerked out of its the small frail body. Hakyeon watched in horror as the soul flew in an arc over the head of the hooded figure. It detached from the finger it held onto and shattered on the floor into broken glowing fragments. There was a beeping sound as the little boy flatlined.

“No!”

It was the first time Hakyeon had ever heard him speak. It was a harsh sound, filled with anguish.

“Sanghyuk, no!”

The hooded figure threw itself at the shattered soul, arms outstretched, but the broken pieces began to dissipate, melting into the floorboards and floating away into the air. The large pale hands only managed to grab onto a small piece.

Before Hakyeon knew what was happening, he was doubled over in pain. A dark heavy cloud of energy had struck him in the chest, making it difficult for him to breathe. He dropped to his knees, one hand grasping at the front of his sweater.

“He didn’t deserve that. He was just a little boy. He didn’t deserve that.”

The voice was less harsh now. It was thinner, softer, and filled with sorrow.

Hakyeon looked up. The other being had finally lowered his hood, dark eyes narrowed in anger. The soul fragment was dwarfed in his large hands, flickering weakly as it fought to glow.

Hakyeon fought to find his voice. “I didn’t—I thought—”

“You thought you were saving his life,” he finished for Hakyeon, his voice sharp and cold. “All you managed to do was condemn the soul of an innocent six-year-old boy.”

Hakyeon couldn’t speak, unable to process the reality of what he had just done. All he could do was stare up at the being whose eyes had begun to water as he cradled the broken soul.

“Do not to meddle in the affairs of Death, Jack Frost.”

With that, he flew out the window.

* * *

Hakyeon remembered dying. Four years after he had recovered his memories in that war with Pitch Black, Hakyeon finally remembered everything of his past life as a human being.

He remembered the warmth of the fire as his mother set the kettle to boil for dinner. He remembered the smell of the marketplace where he traded, the shouts of the merchants over the din of the crowd. He remembered the sharp coldness on his bare feet as he stood, trying not to shake on the frozen pond that took his life.

He didn't remember seeing Death. He only ever saw his little sister.

The tree he was sitting on was gathering a rather large amount of frost on its branches. Still, Hakyeon couldn’t forget the hooded figure nor could he banish the image of the shattered soul from his mind. Three hundred years after the end of his first life, he had finally met Death.

* * *

The fourth time Hakyeon saw him, two years had passed.

Jamie was fourteen now. He still played with Hakyeon in the winter but sometimes he would prefer to stay inside when the snow fell. Hakyeon would draw on his windows and tickle his nose. Most of the time, he would be rewarded with a smile or laugh. Other times, Jamie seemed to ignore him.

Aunt Rhea was bringing him to visit his mother’s grave for the first time since she passed. Sophie, who Aunt Rhea decided was still too young, was staying with a neighbour. Jamie was quiet for the entire drive from Long Lake to Burgess.

Hakyeon couldn’t bear to look at Jamie when they arrived at Mrs Bennett’s final resting place. The small eight-year-old with a missing tooth and stars in his eyes had grown into gangly teenager who was currently fighting hard to keep the tears in his eyes from falling. Hakyeon was trying to come up with an excuse to slip away so Jamie could have some privacy when he saw him. He was standing with his cloak billowing around him, watching Jamie and Aunt Rhea.

Hakyeon had thought a lot about what he was going to say to him if they ever met again, but words utterly failed him now that he stood in front of Death.

“You think I’m a force of evil, taking lives wherever I go.”

It wasn’t a question.

“You blame me for taking away the mother of your human.”

Hakyeon looked over at Jamie. He had given into his tears now, his shoulders shaking with sobs that he made no effort to keep quiet. Hakyeon was no stranger to this sight. In the space of the two years since his mother had passed, Jamie had shed more tears than Hakyeon would have liked to see. Jamie still smiled, still believed in the best, but there were times when the light would seem to extinguish from his eyes and he would sit in his room in the dark, clutching his mother’s old sweater. During these times, Hakyeon would sit with him in the silence, and his thoughts would inexplicably turn to Death. It was hard not to blame him.

Hakyeon couldn’t answer.

“You’ve taken quite a few lives yourself. Are you a force of evil too?”

At that, Hakyeon’s head swivelled to face him, his brows snapping together as he did. But there was no malice in Death’s eyes, only serenity.

“Winter is not kind to humans. You of all people, know this well. I take it you remember how you came to be Jack Frost?”

The angry reply died on his lips. The cold no longer bothered him, but he remembered it well. How it had closed its hold over his entire body, locking up his limbs. How the sharp pond water had burned his lungs as they screamed for air. How the light above him slowly died as he sank further and further down, away from the surface.

“You are the Guardian of Fun. Your spirit represents the joy found in humanity, but the very essence of your existence as the Spirit of Winter also represents the hardship of many. I arrive when your presence becomes too much for those who cannot play with you. I pick up the pieces you leave behind.”

Hakyeon remained silent. Unwelcome thoughts swirled around in his head, as familiar as the snow. Three hundred years he had spent, trying in vain to find his purpose, struggling to banish the idea that he was not meant to be good. Pitch Black’s words haunted him, even now as a Guardian, so many years later.

Death’s eyes were very kind.

“Do not despair, Jack Frost. Few things are truly evil. Not even Pitch Black, whom you so valiantly battled, is truly evil. We do what we are made to do. Joy, Fear, Death — they are inevitable aspects of humanity. We simply are. Our existence is needed, regardless of whether or not it is wanted — or loved. You bring cold, Jack Frost, but you also bring joy. Pitch Black brings fear, but out of those nightmares, bravery is born.”

Death looked over again at Jamie and Aunt Rhea, his gaze fixed on Mrs Benett’s headstone.

“And time, brings all souls to me.”

* * *

The fifth time Hakyeon saw him, four years had passed.

It was a particularly warm day near the end of winter when Jamie was at hockey practice. Hakyeon lingered at the edge of the ice rink making half-hearted attempts at frost flowers.

“You knew this day was coming.”

Hakyeon felt his insides twist up in fear as he scrambled around to face him. Death stood as steadfast as always, his face half hidden by his hood. Hakyeon’s words tumbled out of his mouth, jumbling together in his panic.

“It can’t be his time. Look at him, he’s healthier than an ox. He grew two whole inches in the space of last year. He could probably bench press his entire team if he wanted to — and that ox to boot.”

Was it Hakyeon’s imagination or did Death suppress a laugh?

“Peace, Jack Frost. I was not talking about your human. I was talking about you.”

This confused Hakyeon as much as it relieved him. “Me?”

“He can no longer see you.”

Hakyeon felt himself sag. His heart ached to deny those words. It had been coming for a long time, slowly but surely. As Jamie grew older, his friendship with Hakyeon slowly wavered. Hakyeon tried to tell himself that Jamie was intentionally ignoring him at first, all too used to his tendency to do so during particularly bad days. But some days, he would come home, high on euphoria from hockey practice, and still not see Hakyeon hanging off the edge of his bed. Still, he lingered by his bedroom, occasionally drawing a frost flower or two, hoping to rekindle the friendship he once shared with the little boy he had met all those years ago.

Yesterday was the first time Jamie had walked through Hakyeon, unable to see him at all. Hakyeon swallowed hard, flinching at the memory. His voice was bitter.

“He was the first. My first. For three hundred years, no one even looked at me. I was nothing. Until _he_ saw me. Believed in me. For once, I was more than just… _there_. But now…"

Finally abandoning his pitiful attempts at frost flowers, Hakyeon looked over at Jamie who was currently being dogpiled by his teammates. He was covered in sweat, his hair sticking to his face. His smile shone through his eyes.

“I watched him grow up, that kid. There used to be a time that he needed me.”

The hand that slipped into his was warmer than he had expected. Hakyeon started at the contact but did not pull away. It felt nice. Comforting, almost. They stood watching Jamie and his teammates for a while.

Hakyeon looked down at their intertwined fingers.

“Why didn’t I see you when I died?”

A ghost of a smile played on Death’s lips.

“Does your fellow Guardian, Toothiana, personally collect every tooth that every human loses?”

Hakyeon was suddenly struck by the ridiculous image of Death as Baby Tooth.

“Are you telling me that there are mini versions of you all around the world? How do they even hold a soul’s hand? Do they have tiny little fairy wings?”

An outright smile this time.

“Few souls are collected personally by myself, this is true. Most of them are guided by my reapers. I only appear to those who need me. You didn’t need me.”

“Who are the ones who need you then?”

The hand around his tightened.

“Perhaps it would be easier to show you.”

* * *

Paris was warmer than Long Lake at this time of the year. It almost never snowed enough for Hakyeon to visit long.

Everything about the man screamed of waste, from his yellow skin hanging loose from his bony body to his blackened teeth and too-long fingernails. The sofa that the man lay on sagged with age and moisture. Empty beer bottles and pills littered the dirty coffee table next to the sofa, some of them broken.

The man’s eyes were closed but when Death approached him, his eyelids slowly slid open. Surprise registered in his sunken features as he struggled to move his wasted body.

“Hello Ravi, it’s me.”

Death’s voice was soft, the only source of gentleness in the harsh, still air.

“Hongbin. It’s you. You’re here.”

The man’s voice was hoarse and broken as tears began to flow from the corners of his eyes. His cracked lips formed a smile, showing all of his blackened teeth.

“I’ve missed you.”

Death reached his hand out to touch Ravi’s.

“I’m here now, my love. Will you come with me?”

Ravi was too weak to even nod but the grip he had on Death’s hand was strong. A soft sigh escaped his lips as his soul slipped out of his mortal body.

Hakyeon stared in awe. He thought back to all the souls he had seen. Mrs Bennett’s had a gentle glow, Sanghyuk’s had flickered uncertainly, and the old man’s had been dim, but Ravi’s soul…his soul _shone_. Once out of his body, his soft droppy eyes were fixed on Death’s. Hakyeon had never seen a smile sweeter than his.

“You are as lovely as the day we met, my Binnie.”

Ravi’s voice was now deep and soothing even as it trembled with emotion.

Death’s met Hakyeon’s gaze for a fraction of a second and inclined his head at the shining soul, inviting him. Hakyeon reached out, his hands shaking slightly, the memory of South Korea fresh in his mind. He touched Ravi’s shoulder.

Everything was suddenly thrown into sharp relief. Hakyeon looked around, stunned. Everything in the room was emitting a soft glow. The air smelled ever so slightly of citrus and lavender. The empty beer bottles and pills disappeared off of the floor, as did the stains and scratches. The sofa still looked slightly lumpy but the colours looked brighter, cleaner. The whole room felt homier, as though it had not yet suffered through years of neglect.

Ravi was looking at none of these. He was still staring at Death, his expression enraptured.

Death’s appearance had changed entirely. Gone were his sharp features and thin face with his narrow eyes and his high cheekbones. In its place were big round eyes, crinkled in a deep dimpled smile. His jet black hair had turned into a soft brown, fluttering slightly in the non-existent breeze. No longer was he clothed in Death’s dark billowing cloak but a simple sweater vest and washed out jeans. Hongbin.

“Let’s go home, Ravi.” Instead of Death’s soft misty voice, Hongbin had a voice like rich chocolate, almost as deep as Ravi’s. Hakyeon felt a surge of affection that wasn’t his own. Ravi’s soul brimmed with so much love that it was spilling right out of him.

Suddenly, Hakyeon felt like he was intruding. This moment seemed to belong only to Ravi. He removed his finger from Ravi’s shoulder and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

The room reverted back to its original state, taking its soft glow and subtle scent of citrus and lavender away with it. The empty bottles returned to litter the stained wooden floor. Hongbin was gone and in his place was Death, holding firmly onto Ravi’s soul.

Death did not look at Hakyeon again. With the shining soul in his hands, he flew out the open balcony, into the evening sky.

* * *

“He was lonely.”

"Yes.”

“Are all the souls you reap lonely?”

"Many are."

They were sitting on the roof, outside of Jamie’s window. Jamie was sound asleep, his mouth open as he snored softly. Death turned his head to look at Hakyeon. In the moonlight, he looked paler and eerier than ever. His dark eyes seemed to look through Hakyeon.

“Who did you see when you died? How much do you remember?”

Brown eyes. Fear. The smallest pair of hands reaching out to him.

“My sister. She was scared—we were on thin ice. I saved her from....falling in.”

“Were you afraid?”

"I was _terrified_. But not for me, for her. If I hadn’t gotten to her in time…”

The Winter Spirit shivered at the memory. He couldn’t think of what would have happened had he not been able to reach her.

“You loved her.”

Hakyeon smiled and puffed out his chest.

“That is why you didn’t see me.”

Hakyeon blinked at him inquisitively.

“You already saw the person you loved most in the world. Why would you need to see me?”

In Death’s eyes, Hakyeon saw Mrs Bennett. The old man in New Zealand. The little boy — Sanghyuk — in South Korea. Ravi in Paris.

“Nobody deserves to die alone, Hakyeon.”

Death’s hand was warm in his.

* * *

The sixth time Hakyeon saw him, thirty three years had passed.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Yes.”

Hakyeon hadn’t expected him to accept his accusation so readily. He hesitated, unsure of how to proceed.

“The last time we met — you called me Hakyeon. How…how do you know my real name?”

The look Death gave him was almost one of pity. “I know everyone’s name. There are no secrets in Death.” He pursed his lips in an almost businesslike way and continued. “Now why don’t we discuss why I’m _really_ here, Hakyeon?”

Hakyeon gripped his staff, clenching his jaw.

“I don’t know why you’re here.”

Behind the two invisible beings, fresh earth had just been packed down over Aunt Rhea’s new grave. Jamie held Sophie who cried openly into his shoulder, his red-rimmed eyes filled with grief.

“If you’re here to reap her soul, you’re too late.”

Hakyeon’s voice could barely be heard as he kicked a small loose stone by his foot, looking every bit like the sullen teenager he appeared to be instead of the centuries old Spirit of Winter.

“It is not her soul that you are concerned for.”

It was at that moment that Jamie had chosen to walk through Hakyeon. Hakyeon had grown so used to this that he didn’t even wince anymore. Jamie was fifty-one now. The oldest of his two daughters had graduated high school earlier that year. White threads peppered his brown hair and crow lines decorated his eyes. Jamie was much less resistant to the cold now and tended to get sick in the winter.

“You must make peace with his mortality.”

Jamie’s mortality. Hakyeon had always thought of Jamie’s death as something far off. After all, three hundred years had felt like an eternity to Hakyeon when he was alone. It wasn’t until Jamie hit the half way mark for a century last year did Hakyeon realise just how soon he might have to face the loss of his first human.

Hakyeon said nothing as he watched Jamie make his way down the hill hand in hand with his spouse of twenty years, his two children, and Sophie bringing up the rear. Even after Jamie had driven off with his family in the car, Hakyeon continued to stand there in silence, watching the empty street. When the last rays of sunlight finally disappeared over the horizon, Death spoke.

“May I tell you a story?”

Hakyeon didn’t look at him. He simply nodded.

“When I was alive, my name was Taekwoon.”

* * *

Taekwoon was seventeen years old when he died. Winter had been especially harsh that year and Father had become almost unbearable to live with, especially on bad days when dinner was little more than half a cabbage salvaged from the rubbish heap. Taekwoon tried to hide his bruises the best he could but all of his clothes had holes and there wasn’t any money to mend them.

Jaehwan was the only source of warmth and light in his bleak life. His family was only slightly less poor than Taekwoon’s but no matter how little he had, he always shared it with Taekwoon. The harsh life had made Taekwoon quiet and withdrawn but Jaehwan not only managed to stay upbeat, he remained obnoxiously so, especially when things got hard. It was as if Jaehwan was laughing in the face of whoever had dealt him his hand, refusing to allow it to crush him. As long as Jaehwan was around, Taekwoon felt like he could take anything that came his way.

One night, Father had told Taekwoon not to come home if he didn’t have anything decent to eat. Taekwoon endured the cold for as long as he was able to, trying to sell some old cracked bowls for money. When night fell, Taekwoon was blue from cold. Steeling himself, he returned home, telling himself that he could endure one more beating. Just one more. Surely the thaw was just around the corner.

Taekwoon's mistake was in trying to duck Father’s swing. Mere brute force appeared to be insufficient to sate Father’s anger that night. Taekwoon felt Father seize the bowls he had tried to sell from his grasp. He didn’t realise what was happening until he felt the earthenware smash against his right temple. He only managed to get away when two more bowls had broken against him.

Taekwoon’s too-thin legs shook as he tried to run. He was so cold, so hungry, and his body ached so so much. Holding his bleeding head in his hands, he told himself that he could make it just three houses down. Three houses down was where Jaehwan was.

But the snow had become relentless and the wind kept pushing him off course. Taekwoon wasn’t sure where he was when he collapsed against the ground, his hands slick with his own blood. His final thought was of Jaehwan.

When Taekwoon opened his eyes, he no longer felt cold. All of his aches had disappeared. When he sat up, the first thing he saw was the moon.

The second thing he saw was his own broken body lying next to him, the snow around his head stained rust red. The third thing Taekwoon saw made him turn his back and flee. Jaehwan’s anguished wails followed him down the street.

It had taken awhile for him to understand but the moon was a patient teacher. One might have found it depressing to learn that they were to ferry souls to the afterlife for all of eternity but Taekwoon had no such complaint. It seemed to him that it was a better existence than the one he had previously led. But he missed Jaehwan.

Taekwoon had kept away from Jaehwan for the first couple years or so, too scared to see what he had left behind. But when the ache had gotten too much for him to bear, he found himself roaming closer and closer to his old home.

Seeing Jaehwan again was a shock to him. He looked a little bit healthier than the last time Taekwoon had seen him and Taekwoon took it to mean that things had improved a little bit for him. He still kept his upbeat attitude but he was quieter now, less obnoxious, less rambunctious. His smiles were harder to come by and his eyes were always sad.

Taekwoon spent every spare moment he had by Jaehwan’s side. He was getting better at his job, his powers expanding and growing with every passing moon. He was glad when he created his first reaper. He had no desire to bring Father any form of peace in person. Taekwoon had no idea what happened to the souls he ferried but a small treacherous part of him secretly wished that Hell was a placed that existed. If anyone deserved to burn for all of eternity, Father did.

Jaehwan never married but it was not for the lack of trying. Young women flocked to his side as he matured into his features. Jaehwan’s clothes may have been tattered and patched, but his tall nose and plump lips coupled with his wicked sense of humour and cheerful disposition had made him quite the catch. But Jaehwan would only ever return the smiles of all the women vying for his attention, never their affection. He lived to the ripe old age of forty two.

Taekwoon was sitting by Jaehwan’s bedroom door when he heard his name called aloud for the first time in twenty seven years. It was Jaehwan.

For the first time since he died, Taekwoon was able to look into the eyes of his best friend and see them smile back at him. Without thinking, he slipped his hand into Jaehwan’s, his heart swelling with joy.

When Taekwoon felt Jaehwan’s soul attach itself to his hand and release itself from its mortal shell, he panicked. Taekwoon begged Jaehwan to let go, cutting across the dying man’s delirious rambling about how happy he was to see Taekwoon again. When Jaehwan wouldn’t let go, Taekwoon tried to yank his hand away, seized with desperation.

The last thing Taekwoon ever heard Jaehwan say was his name, before his soul shattered on the damp wooden floor.

* * *

Death’s hands were cupped together. They started to glow softly as the stars began to pop up in the night sky. A small ball of white light began to form above his upturned palms. It grew to about the size of an apple then stopped.

Hakyeon could see that it was made up of hundreds of tiny fragments. The ball of light glowed dimly, almost stubbornly, as it flickered in the night air.

“Human souls are strong, but also very fragile. A soul has to be whole to pass on. If it is broken it...wanders. Until it is whole again, it will wander the Earth, unable to find peace or rest. I didn’t learn this until I had broken my first soul.”

Hakyeon stared at the pieces that used to be Jaehwan, unable to look away.

“He was not first soul I had reaped. He was not even the thousandth. If I am honest, I had lost count long before his time had come. And yet I faltered. Not caused by a slip of the hand or the failure of my powers. But because I cared too much about this particular soul.”

Hakyeon knew exactly what Death was trying to tell him. Jaehwan had been his human as much as Jamie had been Hakyeon’s. Perhaps not in the same way, not by far. Different lives. Different loves. But love all the same.

“Will...will he ever be whole again?”

Even by the dim light of Jaehwan’s soul, Hakyeon could see the Death’s expression waver.

“I don’t know. Maybe if I found all the fragments before…before his light goes out, he might stand a chance.”

The glow of the soul was so dim, it wouldn’t even be enough to serve as a nightlight for Jamie when he was still little and afraid of the dark.

“How long...how long have you been looking?”

“A thousand years, give or take.”

A thousand years. A thousand years and still there was not enough of him to be whole again. A thousand years and still the soul glowed, almost in defiance of the fate it had been condemned to. Hakyeon wondered just how bright Jaehwan’s soul had been before it had shattered. It must have been a glory to behold.

Hakyeon thought of another soul. The first soul _he_ had broken.

“And...Sanghyuk?”

Death balanced Jaehwan’s soul in his right hand as he caused his left to glow. The ball of light was much smaller—only the size of a cherry—but it glowed much brighter.

“Over the last four decades, I have found exactly one hundred and forty three pieces of little Sanghyuk’s soul. He still has long to wait.”

Hakyeon reached out slowly, as if afraid to startle it, and touched the small glowing ball of light. Was he imagining it, or did it glow just a smidgen brighter when it met Hakyeon’s fingertips?

“I will help you." Hakyeon looked up at Death, withdrawing his finger. “To look for Sanghyuk’s soul, I mean.”

The hooded man considered this.

“Does this mean that you have made your peace with mortality?”

Hakyeon smiled sadly. The Guardian of Fun hadn’t smiled for some time now; his facial muscles felt stiff.

“I will try. For Jamie. For Jaehwan and Sanghyuk. And...for you.”

The two souls hovering above Death’s outstretched hands vanished, taking their soft glow with them. Death nodded at Hakyeon, as if in approval. Hakyeon thought he could almost see a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“This is the most I can ask of you.”

As Death drew up his hood, preparing to leave, the words spilled out of Hakyeon’s mouth.

“Will you avoid me again? Will I wait another three decades to see you?”

Hakyeon could have sworn that the other man wore an expression of surprise. He slowly lowered his hood again, tilting his head as he looked at Hakyeon.

“Do you wish for us to meet more often?”

“Yes.”

“Then we shall.”

Hakyeon hesitated before he asked the next question.

“May I ask one more thing of you?”

A nod.

“May I call you Taekwoon?”

A smile.

“You may. Hakyeon.”

* * *

The five hundred and fourteenth time Hakyeon saw him, Jamie was eighty six years old.

"Tell Sanghyuk I have a present for him."

Taekwoon eyes smiled as he extended his upturned palm towards Hakyeon. The soul fragment in Hakyeon's cupped hands soared towards the ball of light before him, almost as if in joy. Sanghyuk was the size of a grape now.

“And Jaehwan? How is he?”

Taekwoon extended his other hand as it started to glow, cupping them together in a mirror of Hakyeon as they met. Jaehwan's soul appeared next to Sanghyuk's, glowing as defiantly as ever.

“I’d like to think they’ve become friends. Sanghyuk seems to like teasing Jaehwan.”

Indeed the smaller brighter soul seemed to be nudging against the bigger dimmer one.

“Enough, you two.”

Taekwoon closed his hands and the two souls vanished.

“Are you ready, Hakyeon?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Jamie’s room was cold. His bedsheets were clean and smelled of sweet jasmine. A window left slightly ajar allowed the scent of the morning rain to seep into the air.

Jamie opened his eyes when Taekwoon touched his hand. His heavily wrinkled face spilt into a smile at the sight of Taekwoon. His eyes were shining.

“Jack.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this story came about as a result of an idea I’ve had bouncing around in my head ever since I first saw Rise of the Guardians in 2010 and my subsequent attachment to the concept of Hakyeon as Jack Frost in 2015. And then I proceeded to fight with this WIP for another 2 years or so because it hates me.
> 
> Other fun facts (fun being subjective):  
> \- Jaehwan and Sanghyuk are not the only broken souls in Taekwoon’s protection.  
> \- Taekwoon has found exactly one thousand three hundred and fourteen shards of Jaehwan's soul.  
> \- I used Ravi instead of Wonsik because I’m so very original by having him be French Korean and setting his story in Paris.  
> \- I was going to have Taekwoon reveal his real name sooner so I wouldn’t have to keep referring to him as Death but it didn’t work out.  
> \- Toothiana's castle is canonically located in Southeast Asia, which is why Hakyeon/Jack took that detour through South Korea when he went to visit her. In the original book series, she is canonically Indian.  
> \- Burgess is canonically the (fictional) town Jamie lives in. Long Lake is a real city located in Minnesota, USA.


End file.
